The Swiftwaters

The next sailing for Stormwind was in two days.  No time to return home to Ashenvale for her things, but Saenah had planned for that contingency.  As she left the docks, the sea winds teasing at her hair, Sihai shook her head.  It was not seemly that a Priestess of Elune possessed such a devious mind.

She took a deep breath and pushed her paperwork across the smooth wooden counter, resisting the urge to bite her lip.  The woman working the counter looked over her documents, then up at her face. 

“It will take a few moments to bring up your account ledger, please wait.”  The young woman turned to a massive bookshelf, her fingertips tracing the spines of the leather-bound volumes within.   It felt like an eternity before she found what she was seeking, slender fingers pulling out a large volume, the name ‘Swiftwater’ embossed in faded gold ink on the dark leather.

“Here you are.”  Deft fingers flipped through the pages, stopping mid-way through the thick volume.  The ledger was turned around and slid across the counter for Sihai’s inspection; a list of deposits and withdrawals penned in neat, crisp purple ink on the parchment’s page.  There had been no transactions for the last four years. Unsurprising, as she had been in Northrend.

Sihai’s fingers trembled slightly as she touched the book, her fingertips tracing over the remaining balance in the account.  Her voice was steady, though.  “There is a vault as well, I believe?” 

The banker’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.  “Of course.  Would you like to access that today?”

Sihai shook her head.  “No, I do not think so, not today.  I would like to make a withdrawal.”  She named a sum that made her stomach clench, but the woman treated it as if it were a matter of course that clients show up after four years of inactivity to withdraw large sums of gold.  Of course, Kaldorei being who and what they were… perhaps it was.

Bright eyes looked up into her face with sympathy.  “Yes, but let’s go somewhere quiet to talk about it.”  The young priestess shifted a basket on her arm and turned to her companion, a strapping young man Sihai had not noticed at first.  “I am going to go have tea with Mistress Shadowclaw.  Will you please let Sister Rhianka know that I will not be joining her this afternoon?”  The young man gave Sihai a long look, but nodded to Saenah’s request and turned away, making his way toward the temple.

“Now then.”  Saenah took Sihai’s arm and began leading her through the crowds.  “Let’s go have a seat and I’ll tell you what I know.” 

Sihai’s stomach lurched as she followed obediently.  Had something changed?  Saenah had been very good about sending letters- she supposed one had arrived after they had left for Winterspring.  So the news must be fairly recent.  Had Anisai denied her?  Had something happened to him?  Scenarios of all types floated through her mind as Saenah led her to a small café.  They took seats fashioned to look like stumps at a tiny table, their tea served in delicate porcelain. 

She wrapped her hands around the cup while Saenah organized her thoughts, her emotional turmoil disrupting her usual control of her body temperature and sending tendrils of ice floating across the surface of her tea.

“He did not write back.”  Saenah’s voice was quiet and sympathetic.  “He came to the Temple.” 

“He… he came?”  Emotions warred within her.  Hope, anxiety, anger--!  Why had they not sent for her immediately?

“He did not stay long,” Saenah continued, as if reading her mind.  “Long enough to deny that you were his sister and to tell us there would be hell to pay if we did not stop sending him letters.”  Her mouth curled in a small smile, her hands reaching out to envelope Sihai’s with quiet warmth.  “Sometimes they need time to… to reconcile themselves, my dear.”

She felt cold; ice throughout her body.  He denied her.  She had hoped… the memories… so much pinned on this.  She had known better than to hope, and had done so anyway.  She didn’t recognize her voice, soft and wooden, laden with grief.  “Thank you for trying, Saenah.  Perhaps it is for the best.”

The young priestess blinked.  “Surely you are not giving up?”  She squeezed Sihai’s hands lightly.  “Elune’s Grace, Sihai, he could have been your twin!  There is no doubt in my mind that you are Rachanel Swiftwater.”  The priestess smiled.  “Once he meets you, there will be no doubt in his mind either.”

“Ah, but he will not meet me, will he?”  She did not mean to sound so bitter.  She held up a hand when Saenah would have spoken.  “I know.  Families need time; they have done their grieving already.  I should be patient.”    Her lips pressed together, frustration oozing through her body.  “I’ve waited long enough!  I can’t be patient anymore. I can’t!”

She didn’t stop to think.  If she stopped, the enormity of what she was doing would sink in and she’d be paralyzed by doubts.   Thoughts of Caelithil and what he might think finding her gone oozed across her conscious mind only to be ruthlessly frozen and shoved aside.  She had delayed long enough.  Now she craved… no!  Needed action. 

A storm had begun by the time she rode through the great gates of Everlook.   She took shelter in the small, cramped inn.  By this point, her decision was made.  She would go to Darnassus.  It was a long flight, but she could go and be back within a couple of days, and it would be at least that long before Caelithil’s business in Moonglade was concluded.  He’d never know she had left.

  The moment the weather lifted, she was airborne, leaning low over the feathery neck of one of Everlook’s hippogriffs, her eyes squinted shut against the piercing wind.   The growling restlessness in the back of her head had abated once she took action, but it prowled like a great saber, ready to begin clawing and biting at her should she fall complacent again.

She was stiff when she dismounted in Rutheran, passing the reins to the waiting handler without a word.  She waved off the nearby vendors offering hot chava, cocoa and teas, moving slowly toward the glowing portal that would take her to the top of Teldrassil’s great height.  Now that she was here, she felt an icy knot forming in her stomach.  What would she say, at the Temple?  Her feet slowed, some of the impetus that drove her rushing to the Temple of the Moon draining away.

Ah, Maozhai. I am so sorry.   She had been just as nervous as he, he thought.  To bring an outlander home to meet the family, even if he was just a friend – his mouth twisted at that thought- was an event of note.  And he wasn’t just a friend.  Not anymore, at least in his own mind.  He bent down and scooped water over his face, scrubbing fiercely. 

 He was proud of her.  She had held up well during the burial, her driving need for vengeance sustaining her at first, then the need to find her surviving brothers.  Now the Honeypaw family, what was left of them, were reunited, and now that the driving need was passed… she no longer had something to keep her occupied.

 As he pulled on clean clothing, he sighed.  He remembered the early days after Lanissa and Kianyis had been lost.  Everything had been a blur, and perhaps if someone had been there… He gave the bed one last, longing look before stepping out of his room and going to the one next door. 

 He tapped lightly, but there was no response.  “Mao?”  His voice was pitched softly. If she was sleeping, he didn’t want to disturb her.  The knob turned easily under his hand, the door swinging open.  She was asleep, curled on her side, exhaustion making her fur look grey and sickly.  He let out a long breath and began to take a step back when he heard a low rumbling noise.

 Five pairs of eyes looked up at him in a distinctly wary and unfriendly manner.  Five throats began to vibrate with low-pitched growls.  The quilen slowly rose to their feet, watching as Ani hastily beat a retreat, closing the door behind him.  Well. Guess she won’t need me then. 

He had a straw-stuffed mattress with clean, azalea-scented linens (bug free!), a small table with a ewer and bowl, a ceramic cup, and a couple of pegs on the wall to hang his belongings. The room had a narrow window that didn’t offer much of a view, and the door had no locks, but there was a cool evening breeze, and the monks had assured him that incidents of theft were non-existent. Which was good, because he couldn’t really afford to lose more of his belongings. It had been quite an eventful few days, and he was pleased to see the cell was exactly as he had left it- with two exceptions. There was a small pitcher of wildflowers in the window niche, and a small bowl with oranges on the table. He smiled to see it, wondering if it Maozhai had somehow arranged it. He had spent the day wandering while she took care of some personal errands. The street vendors on Pandaria had a wealth of goods that were unfamiliar and fantastic to him, and he had purchased several yards of a rich crimson silk as a gift for Mao. It took a few hours, but he had pieced together a pattern that he thought (from hastily stolen glances) would likely fit her, in a style that combined Pandaren fashion with elements of night elf designs. He’d have her try it on when he saw her next. Pleased with himself, he flopped onto the bed, the ropes beneath the mattress creaking under his weight, envisioning Mao’s curves wrapped in the crimson cloth. Something crackled against his chest, poking his skin uncomfortably. With a quiet oath, he fished a crumpled scroll of parchment out of his shirt. “Ah. Right. Forgot about you.” The monk that ran the hostelry had passed him the letter when he left that morning. With a quick flick of his thumb, he broke the seal and began reading, his eyebrows creeping up to his hairline. Anisai Swiftwater Druid of Darnassus Sir, As part of the Temple’s efforts to reunite families torn apart by the recent conflicts, information has come to light regarding one Sentinel Rachanel Swiftwater, presumed deceased in the Northrend conflict. We have found a woman that matches Rachanel’s description living in Ashenvale under the name Sihai Shadowclaw. Unfortunately, Mistress Shadowclaw holds no memories before her death in the wastes of Icecrown; she states that her memory begins with the Scourge. So we cannot be one hundred percent certain of a match. She is most insistent to be identified, as she has a great desire to reach out to what family she may possess. We ask that you return to Darnassus as soon as possible to…